Whiskey Memories
by purplepagoda
Summary: Set in present day. Harm, and Mac's lives nearly ten years later. When their daughter is brutally murdered, and they are forced into witness protection. Will they keep it together, or will they break? Has Mac gone over the edge? As Harm tries to keep their family together he feels her pulling farther away. Maybe she's just a lost cause.
1. No Surrender

She sits in a smoky bar with a cigarette in her right hand. She takes a drag, and stares at the glass of amber colored liquid sitting on the bar in front of her. The bartender glances up at her. She looks strung out. There are dark circles under her eyes, and she looks as if she hasn't had a good meal in a year. Her collarbone sticks out. She's a sad soul, sadder than most of the people he's seen in recent history. She doesn't take a drink. She watches the glass as it sweats. She wears a short dress that reveals a little too much cleavage.

She wears heavy eye makeup to accentuate her hazel eyes. She extinguishes her butt in the ashtray, and proceeds to reapply her lipstick. It's a scene that the bartender has seen far too many times. A desperate woman, past her prime. A woman who has spent her entire life beaten down by life. She spends her days sleeping, and her nights making a living the only way that she knows how. The bartender turns towards the sound of a customer calling for him.

She looks down at her left hand, where a ring used to be. There is still a tan line on her finger from where it once rested. She tries to ignore the demons as she stares into the glass of gin. She's been here in this bar every night for the past several months. She's been in this city for a year. She finds herself being sucked in to all of it. She can feel herself being enveloped by the city of sin.

All of her choices, good, bad, and ugly have lead her here. She begins to wonder if she doesn't deserve this life that she is living. She searches for a moment of relief in all the wrong things. She seeks it out in the bottom of a bottle. She's tried to find it at the end of a needle. She has tried to medicate the emotional agony that she feels, but nothing seems to work.

Nothing makes her feel whole. Nothing eases the pain of the past. Nothing brightens her future. She grows a little bitterer with each passing day. All of her plans have been shot straight to hell. Everything she dreamt of, all of the things that she imagined are gone. She lives a life that she never could have envisioned.

Life has made her hard. It has made her cold, but it hasn't made her unfeeling. Every single that passes she hopes to feel nothing. Instead she spends her time painfully aware of the gaping hole in her heart. The anger, and the sadness make her want to drink again. She wants so badly to put the bottle to her head, and pull the trigger.

She hears footsteps approaching her, but she doesn't look up. She keeps her eyes on the glass in front of her. She can feel the warm feeling of the alcohol hitting the back of her throat. She can feel herself being sucked in. She can feel herself being dragged back to the bottom of the hole she's still climbing out of. A man in a uniform takes a seat next to her. He shoots her a smile, but she seems unaffected. She ignores his relentless flirting.

"What are you drinking?"

"None of your business."

"Let me buy you a drink," he insists.

"I'll pass, Sargent Smugass."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think. You don't even know me."

"Who said that I wanted to?"

"The way your dressed says that you want someone to get to know you better."

"You're a pig."

"Let me buy you a drink."

"No," she tosses a couple of bills on the bar, and hops off the barstool that she's on. She turns to walk away. She feels fingers around her bare arm.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

She clenches her jaw, and her nostrils flare. "I'm going home."

"Not so fast," he argues.

"Who the hell do you think that you are?"

"I am a Sargent in the United States Marine Corp. You will pay me some respect."

"A Sargent?" She laughs, "Is that supposed to impress me?"

"You have no idea who you're dealing with."

"Neither do you," she retorts, "I'm above your pay grade."

"You're just some hooker who has seen better days."

She frees herself from his grip, "I'm your worst nightmare," she tells him, and then turns to walk away.

She has played out this scenario a thousand times in her mind. She's gone over all of the scenes. She has considered every action, every consequence. As she exits the bar, and heads to her car she pretends not to notice the sound of footsteps trailing behind her.

She stops in front of a white GMC Denali, and pulls her keys out of her purse. She unlocks the door. She opens the door, flinging it open with force. She hits the Marine in the head. He stumbles back, nearly falling onto the pavement.

He looks like a jarhead with nothing going on between his ears. He's barely five foot eight. He compensates by being overly muscular. She theorizes that if he flexed his muscles he would bust out of his uniform. He recovers quickly, and yanks her out of the car by the head of the hair. He slams the door closed, and shoves her up against the car.

"For a street walker you have a nice ride."

"You know what they say about assumptions."

"No, I don't."

She rolls her eyes. He wraps his hand around her neck. She struggles for a moment. She knees him in the groin, and he lets go of her.

"That was a mistake," he tells her as he lunges forward.

She spits in his eye, "Your whole life was a mistake."

"Stop struggling, it won't end so badly for you."

"Go to hell," she stomps on his foot. She keeps provoking him.

He swings at her with every intention of giving her a black eye. Her reflexes work more quickly than his. She ducks, and his hand connects with her driver's side window. He recoils. His nostrils flare, and his face turns bright red. He reaches toward his belt. He removes a weapon. He presses the nine millimeter Glock from the holster on his belt. He presses it to her temple.

"Shoot me now, or you're going to regret it," she gives him the opportunity.

He cocks the weapon, his finger hesitates outside the trigger guard. She slips her gun out of the holster on her thigh. He places his finger on the trigger. She draws quickly. There is a crowd of people in the parking lot by this point. She can hear the sirens coming towards them. She watches as his finger caresses the trigger. She looks into the eyes of a coward. She raises her weapon and presses it against his forehead. She squeezes the trigger before he can muster the courage to pull his.

The gun fires, and the bullet rips through his skull. His blood spatters on her face. He falls backwards onto the ground. As she stands over his lifeless body she feels nothing. She feels no sense of relief, or remorse, or regret. This isn't the first time she's taken a man's life, and felt nothing. She watches as the police cruisers pull into the parking lot. She clears the bullet from the chamber, and removes the magazine. She places the weapon, and the magazine on the hood of the car.


	2. Nothing Really Matters

He enters the precinct, with a heavy feeling in his heart. An officer meets him in the squad room, and leads him into an interview room. He enters the room, and takes a seat next to his client. The police officer continues to ask a barrage of questions.

"Are you charging my client with something?"

"No," the officer admits.

"Good, then we're leaving," he rises from his seat.

She follows him out of the precinct to his car. She climbs into the passenger's seat, and he slams the door as he climbs in next to her. He puts the key in the ignition, but he doesn't turn the engine on. He takes a deep breath, and tries to maintain his composure.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I couldn't live like this anymore. I am tired of living a lie. I just want to go home."

"I honestly thought that this day would never come."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apology. I just want my wife back, Mac. I miss my wife. What kind of example are you setting for our kids? Did you even consider their lives when you pulled that trigger? You know what, I don't want to know the truth. I don't want to know your motives. I don't want to know how long you've been plotting this, because I can't defend you if you tell me."

She zones out. Her mind goes somewhere else.

Several moments later he touches her forearm, "Sarah did you hear me?"

She shakes her head, "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Where do you want me to take you?"

"To get my car," she answers.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No," she insists.

"Sarah, just let me take you home."

"I can't come home," she argues.

"At what point are you going to realize that we need you? When are you going to start living in the present?"

"How many times are we going to have this conversation?"

"As many as it takes to convince you to come home."

"You're the one who kicked me out," she reminds him.

"What choice did I have, Sarah?"

"You always have a choice," she argues.

"What choice did you leave me? Did you really expect me to allow our children watch you unravel? Did you really think that was what was best for them?"

"You are never going to get it," she insists.

"I get it. I was there. Sarah you seem to forget that you are not alone in this world. I know that you spent most of your life alone, but you're not now."

"Coming home doesn't fix anything," she reminds him.

"It's a start. You haven't seen the kids in two months."

"You hold ever mistake that I've ever made against me. You save them in your arsenal as ammunition to shoot holes in my character."

"Mac, you know that I did what I had to. I did what was best for our children, because you weren't able to."

"You expect that I can just come home, and we can start all over? Do you really think that we can have the life that you envision? Harm the perfect life, with a perfect house, and perfect children, and…" she trails off as a lump forms in her throat, "a perfect wife, is all gone. It's all gone, okay? At what point are you going to understand that?"

"When are you going to understand that I just want my family back?"

"You should have thought of that. You are the one who kicked me out. You are the one who won't let me see my children," the tears wait to be shed.

"You are not the only one who has to live with what happened, Sarah. You aren't the only one who is going through hell."

"You weren't there," she reminds him.

"I know that you are going to hold that against me for the rest of my life, and I can't help that. I just hope that one day maybe you'll be able to forgive me. I know that you haven't worn your wedding ring since the day that you left. If you don't want to work on our marriage, that is up to you. You can't just disappear from our children's lives."

"I didn't disappear. I didn't abandon them. I didn't leave willingly. You threw me out. You are the one who wouldn't even let me see our son on his birthday. That was you."

"You can play the victim if you want, but you have to live with the consequences of your actions."

She purses her lips, and her nostrils flare.

"Sarah if you have something to say, then say it."

"I am always going to be an alcoholic, as long as I live. Instead of trying to crush me, maybe you could have tried to help me."

"I don't know how to help you. I wouldn't know where to start. Mac, you always keep me at an arm's length away. If you hadn't maybe I would have been able to stop it before it got so out of hand."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she insists.

"What do you want? Do you want to come home? Are you ready to come home?"

"I don't want to stay here. I hate it here. I want to go home."

"We have to stay here."

"You don't have to stay here."

"I'm not going to leave you here. There would be nothing to come back to."

"Harm, maybe you should cut your losses. Take the kids, and leave this town. You need to start over."

"I thought that's what we were doing."

"They deserve better than me."

"You made a mistake, it doesn't change who you are. You are still their mother."

"A mistake?" She scoffs, "I went on a six month bender without any regard to my safety, or theirs. I am not suitable to be anyone's mother."

"How long have you been sober?"

"Three months."

"Don't you think that you deserve a second chance?"

"No," she answers honestly.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't say, without a doubt that I won't ever drink again. I can't promise you that I won't put their safety, or well-being in jeopardy again. I don't deserve the opportunity to screw their lives up any more than I already have."

"They want you to come back home."


	3. The Crushing Past

She sits in the passenger's seat of his SUV. She glances in the backseat at the two car seats. She feels her heart sinking as she notices the pile of toys on the floor, and a sippy cup in one of the cup holders. She thinks about the past few years, and how their fairytale ended more quickly than it began. She turns towards the driver's seat. Harm stares at her expectantly.

"I want to come home," she says under her breath.

"Then come home," he insists.

She nods in agreement. Within twenty minutes they are pulling into the driveway of a four bedroom on a cul-de-sac. He pulls the car into the garage, and then exits the vehicle. He shoves bikes, and powerwheels out of her way. She follows him out of the garage into the house. He pays the babysitter, and she quietly slips out. Mac heads into the master bedroom, making a beeline for the closet. She grabs some clean clothes, and exits the room.

She heads across the hallway into a bathroom. She takes a quick shower, and slips into a clean pair of pajamas. She tosses her dirty clothes into the laundry hamper, and leaves the bathroom. She heads down the hallway, nearly tripping over a tower of Lego's on her way. She sneaks into the first room on the right.

The room is painted ninja turtle green. A nightlight illuminates the room. She takes a seat on the edge of the twin sized bed. She stares at the face of a pajama-clad boy. She runs her fingers through his brown hair. She kisses the three year old boy on the cheek. She smoothes out his covers, and leaves the room.

She heads across the hall into a room with grape colored walls. She tiptoes across the room, hoping not to fall over a pile of toys, or laundry. She manages to make it to the bed without incident. She takes a seat on the bed, and reaches for the lamp on the bedside table. She flips on the lamp, and stares at the little girl nestled underneath My Little Pony covers. The five and a half year olds sandy blonde curls go in ten different directions. She sits on the bed, just staring at the green-eyed little girl. She can't help but feel as if something is missing. Her mind starts to wander. She hears the covers rustle, and it shifts her focus back to reality. The little girl rolls onto her side, and her eyes fly open.

"Mommy!" She smiles.

"Abby!" She kisses her cheek.

"I missed you," she sits up, and hugs her neck.

"I missed you more."  
>"Will you be here when I wake up?"<br>"Yes," she promises, as she tucks the little girl under her covers.

She turns off the lamp, and leaves the room. She finds Harmon standing in the hallway waiting on her.

"I'm sorry," he tells her.

"Not as sorry as I am," she responds as she walks past him into the guestroom. He doesn't question her decision. He retires to the master bedroom.

She crawls into bed in the blandly decorated room. She pulls the covers over her head, and hopes that sleep will come. She spends hours staring at the clock, despite the fact that she knows exactly what time it is. The last thing she sees before sleep finally wins out is the glow of the red digits on the alarm clock. Sometime after drifting from consciousness she starts to dream.

* * *

><p><em>May 15<em>_th__, 2013 _

_ It's nearly nine o'clock, and they're just leaving an ice cream shop. A little girl clings to Mac's hand, and eighteen month old rests on her hip. She watches closely as they step off the sidewalk into the parking lot. She keeps her eyes on the little girl in front of them. The four year old with long dark curls pulled into a pony tail stays close to them. She surveys her surroundings, and checks to see that none of the cars are moving. _

_ Their car is directly in front of them, in a space across the lot. They head towards the car. Halfway to the car another car backs out of its space. It comes towards them at an alarmingly fast rate of speed. They stop in their tracks. _

"_Libby!" Mac shouts, without a second thought she sets the toddler on the ground, and his sister takes his hand, and holds it tightly. The two of them stand frozen, on the sidewalk as she races towards her other daughter, who has turned back to look at her. The little girl hears a car, and looks up, and sees headlights moving towards her. She starts to run towards her mother, but it's too late. The far right side grill of the car hits her legs. Mac stands between the car, and the sidewalk, with her back to the other two children, blocking their view. _

_ She stands two feet from her child, completely helpless. She can only watch as the car speeds towards the exit of the parking lot. She hears the crunching of bone as the tires roll over the little girl. She looks up for a brief second, just long enough to see the driver. The car speeds away, and Mac just hovers over the lifeless body of her little girl as she bleeds out on the pavement. _

* * *

><p>She jerks into consciousness, and sits straight up in the bed. She is drenched in sweat, and her heart is racing. She looks up, and finds a figure standing next to the bed.<p>

"Go back to sleep," he whispers.

"Did I wake you?"

"Your screaming did," he admits.

"I'm sorry. Go back to bed."

"Scoot over," tells her.

"Harm…"

"Shove over," he insists.

She scoots over towards the wall. He climbs into the full sized bed, next to her. He wraps his arms around her, and holds her close. She squirms, trying to break free from his grip.

"What are you doing?" She questions.

"What I should have done all along. You're not alone," he reminds her.

She stops thrashing, and settles underneath the covers, wrapped in his arms. She presses her hand against his chest, and the tears flow like rain.

"I'm sorry," she tells him, "I'm so sorry."


	4. Gone Forever

She sits in the bathtub surrounded in bubbles. She can't remember the last time that she took a bath. She sits in the silence of the bathroom trying to calm herself down enough to sleep. She barely sleeps more than a couple of hours a night anymore. She exhales, and realizes that her water is now tepid. She pulls the plug, and wishes that her problems could circle the drain as easily as her used bath water. She climbs out of the tub, and wraps a towel around herself. She dries off, and pulls on a clean pair of pajamas. She doesn't even consider drying her hair. She brushes her teeth, and exits the bathroom. She steps into the hallway, and finds a pair of hazel eyes staring up at her.

A little boy wearing mismatched pajamas stands in front of her in silence. She squats down next to him, and wraps her arm around him. The hallway is only illuminated by a nightlight that is plugged into an outlet halfway down the hall. He wraps his arms around her, and squeezes her tightly. As she inhales she takes in the scent of his shampoo. She lifts him off the floor, and carries him back to his room. She peels back his covers, and nestles him underneath them. She lies down next to him.

"Mommy?"

"Caleb," she whispers, "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I heard a noise," he explains, "I thought it was a monster. It was just you."

"Am I a monster?"

He giggles, "No, mommy."

"Close your eyes and go to sleep," she cups his cheek with her hand.

"Mom?"

"Yes, son?"

"Where have you been?"

"Away."

"I missed you so much," he adds.

"I missed you too."

"Why did you go?"

"Can we talk about this later? It's late, and you need to go to sleep."

"Are you going to stay?"

"I'm not going to leave."

"Will you stay in here with me, please?" He begs.

She runs her fingers through his hair, and kisses the top of his head. "Okay," she agrees.

She lies next to him in his bed in silence. She watches him as he drifts off to consciousness. He clings to her as he sleeps. She feels too guilty to slip out of the bed. She closes her eyes, and listens to the clock on the wall tick.

In the morning she sees her daughter off to school. Harmon heads to the door dressed in a suit, and a tie. He hesitates in the doorway. She sits on the couch, watching cartoons with Caleb.

"Are you sure that you're okay? I can have Allie come watch him if you have things to do."

"I have nothing better to do."

"Okay," he nods, and exits the house.

She watches the door as it closes. She shifts her glance to the little boy sitting on the couch next to her. She forces a smile, and plants a kiss on his cheek.

"What are we going to do today?" She asks him.

"Watch Ninja Turtles," he informs her.

"You don't want to do anything special?"

"This is special," he tells her.

"We could go to the park," she suggests.

"I just want to stay home," he replies.

"Okay. What do you want for breakfast? I can make you pancakes, or French toast."

"I want Lucky Charms."

"I'll make you bunny pancakes."

"Mommy, I just want Lucky Charms."

"Okay," she nods in agreement.

He presses mute on the remote control, and shifts his glance away from the TV screen in front of them.

"Mommy I didn't think you were coming home."

"I'm sorry," she feels her heart shatter into a million pieces as she tries to figure out a way to explain her absence to him.

"Can we go home now?"

"We are home," she reminds him.

"Our old home," he continues.

"This is our home now, Caleb. We live here."

"I want to go home."

"Me, too."

"Why can't we go home?"

"It's not safe there," she explains.

"Is it safe here?"

"Of course."

"What happened to my sister?"

"Abby went to school," Mac reminds him.

"My other sister. What happened to her?"

Mac ignores the lump that forms in her throat. She swallows hard, and looks her son in the eyes.

"Caleb, Libby died."

"She went to heaven?"

"Yes," she nods.

"But why?"

She shakes her head, "I don't know why."

"Do you miss her?"

"Yes."

"Does it make you sad?"

"Yes."

He crawls onto her lap, "Don't be sad, mommy."

* * *

><p>That evening once both of the kids are asleep Mac slips outside onto the back patio. She takes a seat at the picnic table, and stares out into the yard. She hears the sliding glass door open, but she doesn't turn to see who it is. She doesn't shift in her seat, or even care to bother to find out who it is. Harmon takes a seat next to her.<p>

"You have to let it go," he tells her.

She doesn't respond to him. She stares at the swing set in their backyard.

"It's going to eat you alive, if you don't."

She shakes her head, and her cheeks burn with anger. Her nostrils flare as she turns to look at him.

"I can't let it go. Some psychopath fleeing from a crime scene killed our child. We had to leave the life that we knew. We had to give up everything, our home, our friends, our entire life, just to stay safe. I am so tired of just playing it safe. I want to go home. I don't want to be here anymore. I just wanted to end it all."

"Your life, or his?"

She breaks eye contact.

"You can't change what happened."

"It doesn't stop me from wanting to," she insists.

"You can't bring her back."

"How can you live life every day, and pretend like nothing ever happened? We had to beautiful daughters, and in the blink of an eye one of them was gone."

"I have to keep it together for Abby, and Caleb. Falling apart won't help them."

"I guess that I am the weak one."

"I never said that. Sarah, don't put words into my mouth."


End file.
